Means to an End
by Renascor
Summary: Jason wakes to discover that fate had never released its clutches. Barely even visible Vaas/Jason. Slight violence and swearing. Mainly a short, oneshot piece.


"The universe…it just spoke to me, hermano."

The voice trails sluggishly into Jason's ear and rests there along the static. He feels sick to his stomach, a god awful churning that brings a groan to his lips and pulls the panic away from the forefront of his mind. He focuses on that ache and not at that all too familiar voice pulsating in his ears. That easy, contemplative but fucking sinister drawl that he's heard so many times before. He'd rather his guts explode or feel the sharp flick of a machete in his ribs than listen to that voice again.

But the monologue goes on, and Jason is left wondering if he's hallucinating, or if the voice is becoming ever clearer.

"I laid there, right where you _**fucking**_ left me…nearly dying. And the universe spoke right out."

Jason tries to open his eyes but feels as though he'd pass right out if he did. He's becoming more and more aware that _**his**_ voice isn't becoming any fainter, fading out as the visions finish their twists and turns and die as the drugs or pain ebb away. But it doesn't happen. His voice becomes clearer, sharper and fills his head even as Jason's body screams to focus on the rotten pain in his ribs and stomach, the dull ache of his head, the trickle of warmth from his broken nose.

"How messed up is that, Jason, huh? How fucked up is that, hermano?"

And Jason opens his eyes only to be met with a blur of colour. But he can identify it. God, he can conjure an clear image in his head the second he registers the red tones and dark shadows. It was only a month or so ago that he was in that position. Looming over a broken and lifeless body. Watching, in a way, as some unexplainable part of him withered and died.

It was only a month or so ago, that he'd killed Vaas.

Silence fills the room while Jason starts and tries to shuffle back despite the ricochet of pain across his skull, like fresh bullets zipping across the back of his head. He was right. It was fucked up. None of it would slot into place and it didn't help that the beating he'd apparently taken was disorientating him to the point of sickness. Jason tries with every ounce of energy to move away from that looming image, that blur of a shadow, but knows he couldn't ecscape. And a part of him is convince that even if he was fully able, there was a power in Vaas now that would outpower him, though he had no idea what that power was. Revenge? Insanity? But all of those things had driven him before, and now they seemed trivial. It seemed as though Vaas' power was on a global scale, and Jason was an island.

"Y'know…" Vaas contemplates, "You're pretty damn quiet. Where's that voice of yours, Snow White? Hm? Did I beat that out of you already?" The pirate's voice is unnaturally quiet, but clear all the same. Jason finally collapses on his back, feeling terribly exposed, and watches as Vaas circles him like a vulture. His chest rises and falls, wheezing gently. A shock of panic overcomes him as liquid fills up in his throat; just a little, but enough to get his adrenaline firing. What the fuck had Vaas done to him? He tries to speak, to spit out venom and hope it somehow burns that insane piece of shit, but something even more distressing happens. All he can hear is the croak of a plea, as though the voice is disconnected from his own.

As his eyes slowly, dreadfully slowly, refocus; colours and shadows forming to paint that face that he hates _so_ damn much, he wishes he'd never been able to see at all.

Vaas' face is gaunt, as though he'd simply risen from the grave, and there's an odd paleness about him that looked so unnatural it might have been painted on. A smile is stretched across his face, but what strikes Jason, just as it had done the first time he'd ever set eyes on that madman – was his eyes.

His eyes seemed to be disconnected from the emotions of his face, impossibly dark and at first glance, vacant. But the more Jason looked, the more he seemed to be able to pull apart. That fucked up humour dancing across his pupils as he looked down as Jason's wounds, and worst of all, that odd melancholy that seemed to embrace all insane men. It was worse than the sight of guns settled on his thighs, or the knife gripped in his hands.

The weapon's were merely threat, his eyes - were the promise.

"Miss me?" Vaas mocked, eyes piercing Jason's now constricted pupils, and it took all of his energy, but painfully Jason managed to spit out his words.

"_F…fuck…yo-u."_

The pirate's expression turned almost blank at that, but there was _still_ that sad humour blurred across his eyes. Vaas breathed out through his nose, as though steadying himself, and stood up. His eyes were still locked with Jason's, and with a jolt from his captive, Vaas fished something out of his pocket. The glint of silver was familiar to Jason, but as the solidarity of what was happening came crashing down, it didn't seem to mean much.

In reality, it meant everything.

The lighter seemed as new as ever, bright and adding an odd lightness to the room – just from one small object. It was only then that the pieces clicked together, the distinct and sickly smell of petrol only just hitting Jason, but hitting him now with such force that he didn't know how he'd managed to block it out. But all of that was a blur, a meaningless string of thoughts, because soon enough Vaas was sitting down, cross-legged, next to Jason, and flicking the lighter. It still struggled to light, but the flint had been replaced. Every now and then it burned into life, the smell of metal mingling almost perfectly with Jason's blood.

There was a sort of finality as it lit, and Jason slumped his propped head onto the floor with a surprisingly painful thump.

"If you couldn't k-kill me before…wha…what makes you think you can now?" Jason asked, surprised at the question leaving his lips. Of _course_ Vaas could have killed him, he could have plunged that knife into his throat while he was unconscious, or blown his brains out as he tried to roll over. He could kill him now, walk to the exit and drop the lighter with the crackle of flames filling his ears and Jason's screams sending him to sleep. But something told Jason otherwise. It was…it was like the universe spoke to him…

It would never be that simple for them.

There was something shared, something fateful between them. And Vaas' answer seemed to fill the oddly aching hole where an answer for that should be.

"This time, hermano…" Vaas spoke with a slow, composed certainty. "This time, it isn't just part of us that I'll burn to the ground. Nothing will be left."

And with that, he the flint made a small spark, and the lighter flew behind Vaas' head as he threw it. In an instant, bright amber light filled the abandoned shack and the smell of smoke was practically instant. Flames licked the walls and trapped the exits it. But Jason didn't think he'd have ran if he'd tried.

Because it would never end if he had.

The cat chasing the mouse. Alice falling down an endless tunnel to Wonderland. No sense, no direction, no guidance, no certainty. Just a game of hide-and-seek whilst one lost purpose and the other lost his mind. The universe spoke to them both as the smoke began to cloud their vision. The same words, but two meanings.

Jason laid back, his fight still strong in his heart but his actions showing nothing; letting the heat blister his skin and steal his breath. In a way… this was like winning. It was a means to an end that would have gone on for years…maybe even past that…maybe something beyond human comprehension.

Two sounds filled the shack as the life drained from its insides.

Vaas' final, smoke-choked words:

"H-hey…hermano? Did you miss me?"

And Jason's broken laughter.


End file.
